On Thanksgiving day, she was parked in a chair (since she needs assistance getting around) and Brayden parked next to her in his wheelchair (since he needs assistance getting around). Everyone around was busy talking, laughing and snacking on some before dinner treats. No one in the room where Brayden and Great-Grandma Sommerfeld were sitting.
Neither one of them talking...not much to say.
I looked in the room and saw that Great-Grandma had gently reached over to hold Brayden's hand. They sat there like that for quite some time.
I do not know how much Great-Grandma understands about Brayden but it doesn't really matter. Her sweet gentle touch, reaching over to Brayden...touched my heart and made me tear up.
It reminded me of a poem from one of my absolute favorite children's books, A Light in the Attic.
The Little Boy and the Old Man (for this blog we will say woman)
Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the little old [woman], "I do that too."
The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
"I do that too," laughed the little old [woman]
Said the little boy, "I often cry."
The old [woman] nodded, "So do I."
"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean," said the little old [woman].